


I'm Going Home

by theychosefamily67



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-11
Updated: 2016-12-11
Packaged: 2018-09-07 22:38:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8818906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theychosefamily67/pseuds/theychosefamily67
Summary: Written for @neversatisfiedgirl Rocky Horror Challenge.  We had to choose a song from the musical.  I chose “I’m Going Home”.





	

Mary stepped out of the bunker, closed the door behind her and took a deep breath.  

Dean had stepped away from her.  Her son, her little angel, had been so hurt that he didn’t even want her to touch him.  

She covered her mouth, biting back a sob.  How could she explain to him that when she’d watched those children’s souls fly up to heaven she’d been…jealous.  Yes, jealous was the word.  Mary missed the happy family she’d had in heaven.  It had been complete.  She’d been with John and her boys.  

Down here, everything was all wrong.  John was dead.  Her little boys were grown men.  They were hunters, the one thing she had tried so desperately to keep them away from.  And it was all her fault.  Mary was the one who had made the deal with Azazel.  If it weren’t for her, he wouldn’t have been in the nursery that night.  Sam wouldn’t have been cursed with demon’s blood.  John wouldn’t have sought revenge for her death.  

And before she could be a mother again, Mary Winchester needed to come to terms with all of that. So, despite her breaking heart, she threw the bag over her shoulder and walked away from the bunker, away from her boys.

The first place she needed to go was home, to Lawrence.  It was the only place she remembered.  One interminable bus ride later, Mary checked into the first in a series of cheap motels.  After she washed off the grime of the day,  she fell into bed, exhausted.  

She waited until dark to go to the house, in case it was occupied.  Once the sun dipped below the horizon, Mary walked the five blocks to their old neighborhood.  Every step, every breath raising another memory. She rounded a corner, remembering when she’d taken Dean and Sammy out in their special double-stroller, stopping every five minutes to let another curious neighbor coo over her perfect boys. There was the small park where Dean had scraped his knee for the first time while trying to go down the twisty-slide, upside-down and backwards. He’d cried, and Mary had watched as John tenderly wiped the tears away and covered the skinned knee in band-aids.

Finally, Mary reached their old house, relieved to see a For Sale sign in the yard; it didn’t look occupied.  Still, better safe than sorry; she crept through the neighbor’s backyard into hers, rather than try the front door.  A quick lock-pick later, and she was standing in her kitchen.

She clicked on her flashlight, looking around the room.  So much had changed.  The counters were some shiny material, instead of yellow Formica.  The cabinets had been painted white.  The linoleum floors had been replaced with vinyl.  She looked for where they had measured Dean’s growth on the door frame, but it had long since been painted over.  

Mary shook her head; this was not her house any more.

Upstairs, she visited Dean’s room first.  Sitting on the floor, she wrapped her arms around herself, shivering from the cold.  This was where he’d played with his race cars.  This was where she’d read to him before he went to sleep at night.  She blinked, fighting back tears.  

Now, the harder part. Wiping sweaty hands on her jeans, Mary made her way to Sam’s room.  

There was the spot where Sam’s crib had been.  She tried to remember his chubby little baby face, and at first, it worked. But then she realized the perspective was all wrong; he was too far away.  The memory hit her, hard.

 _She was on the ceiling._  She grabbed for something, falling to the floor.  

_She felt the heat, the gash in her belly burning long before the fire got to it.  I’m burning. I’m burning. I’m burning!_

Desperately, Mary crawled out of the room.  Once beyond the door, the memory blissfully faded away.  Mary leaned against the wall, trying to catch her breath.

After that, the bedroom she’d once shared with John was almost a relief to visit.  The wallpaper they’d picked out had been taken down.  She trailed wistful fingers down the wall, missing the familiar pattern.  

Just then, another memory began to surface: had she…remained here after her death? With leaden certainty, she knew it was true. Mary Winchester had been a ghost in her own home.  

She sat down quickly as the images flashed before her eyes.

_It was a normal day.  Frankly, Mary was kinda bored.  That was the problem with being a spirit tied to a house, you couldn’t go anywhere.  The only entertainment was the people who were in the house.  At the moment, there weren’t any.  The lovely couple who had lived there for years had just moved out.  Suddenly the kitchen door swung open.  It was John!_

_Mary couldn’t believe her eyes.  He looked so tired, so sad._

_“John!”  She cried out.  “Thank God you’re back. Where are the boys?”_

_He couldn’t hear her. John headed upstairs; Mary followed behind him.  He went into their bedroom and stood where their bed used to be._

_Mary glided close, desperate to touch him.  She reached out a hand and swore she saw him shiver._

_John looked around the room.  “Mary?  Are you here?”_

_“I’m here,” she whispered, tears in her eyes.  If only he could hear her._

_“Mary, I…I miss you so much. Every day, every second,” John cleared his throat, his voice thick with emotion.  “I’m gonna get the thing that did this to you, baby.  I’m so close.  I’ve found a gun that can kill it and I swear, I will not rest until it’s dead.”_

_John was hunting?!  No.  No, it couldn’t be. She reached out a hand to stop him–_

–And the memory faded away. Mary was unsurprised to find tears streaming down her face.  

A thought struck her.  That was the last time she had seen him alive. He had died on that obsessive quest to avenge her. Oh God, she missed him so much.

After several quiet minutes, she stumbled back downstairs and took one last look at her home.  But this wasn’t her home.  Not anymore.  

Her home was in Lebanon, Kansas.  In the bunker, with her boys. Reliving those memories in Lawrence had been nightmarish, but it had also…healed something inside her. When she’d walked out of the bunker, Mary’d had no idea where she was going; but now, she knew. It may take her a while to retrace her steps, to visit the places she needed to visit and purge herself of the old memories weighing down her soul, but Mary was going to do it.  Because she had to.  Because she couldn’t go home until she did.

And one thing was for certain, she was going home.

Mary pressed her lips together, nodded her head, and walked out the door.


End file.
